She stood unmoved. "Hope you don't mind if I get a better look at that..." She pointed to the breast pocket where the ID had gone. The agent drew it out and handed it to her. Lynnette examined the identity badge and returned it. Jack had spent several years on the police department, Kyle had spent over twenty-five. She was not naive and would take no bullying. "Ok," she said, handing it back. "Now, apologize to Nina then tell me what you want and why you've been so rude."
The agent apologized, reluctantly. Then they began asking questions. How does Jack make a living? Where did he go? When did she last see him? When did he call last? Nina sat quietly on the arm of the couch, but Lynnette would have none of it. "Wait a minute," she said, holding up one hand, "this sounds more like an interrogation than a few questions. Maybe you'd better tell me what this is all about."
"I'm sorry," said the first agent, flatly. "That's classified."
"Well then, I'm sorry," added Lynnette, folding her arms across her chest, "you don't answer mine, I don't answer yours. You know where the door is, " she said motioning toward the door dismissively. “Don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out.” The need for more information about Jack was killing her, but she wasn't about to give in.
The commotion outside on the sundeck made everyone in the room turn around. A third agent escorted Jack's younger sister Lisa in through the sliding glass doors gripped tightly by her elbow. "Caught this one outside spying."
"I live here you moron!" Lisa flailed but the agent gripped her arm like a vice. "Ow! Let go!"
"We don't have any record of her..." one agent said to the other.
When Kyle Steele pulled back into the driveway, there were two new vehicles parked there. He didn't know many of Jack's friends, but he couldn't picture any of them driving long dark anonymous sedans. He parked on the grass next to the garage, out of view from the rest of the house. Having stopped for a few groceries after the hardware store, he hefted a large paper bag under one arm and closed the van door quietly. It made no sound. The freshly mown grass smelled sweet and shooshed softly as he made his way to the open garage door. Once inside the garage, he rummaged silently through the cabinets above Jack's workbench until he found what he was looking for. He set it in the bag on top of the ice cream. Kyle cautiously entered the kitchen through the garage, thankful he'd lubricated the door's hinges earlier that week.
"I don't care if you have a record or not," shouted Lynnette, "she's my daughter!"
Kyle had no idea who these men were. And at this point he was not interested in asking for identification. He ended up behind the agent and Lisa, one arm circling the bag, his free hand resting on top. "Release my daughter," he said calmly, "or you'll pull back a stump." She was released immediately. As the agent turned, Kyle let the bag slide through his grasp and drop to the floor. In his free hand was a Sig Sauer 226, 9mm semi-automatic. When the bag hit the floor, it became an unspoken exclamation point. He aimed over Lisa's shoulder at the man's right eye. "I wouldn’t miss at five times this range," Kyle added calmly. Kyle was an expert, it would actually be closer to ten.
"FBI," said the man slowly.
"That's nice..." retorted Kyle. He wasn't sure whether to believe them or not yet. "Suppose you back up." Lisa ducked under his line of fire and ran out the sliding glass door to the sundeck.
"We'd really feel more comfortable if you put that away," said the first agent.
"Feel? You're gonna feel a nine-mil in your forehead if you don't do what I tell you to do." They made no attempt to resist and retreated towards the front door as he advanced.
"You don't really think you'd get us all if we decided to draw on you. Do you?" The first agent looked blankly at his partner, he couldn’t believe he'd said something so stupid.
"Well," said Kyle, sarcastically, "I need what, say two apiece? That's six. If things get a little messy and I have to hurry and need three each, that's nine I've got sixteen. Since you're the asshole with the biggest mouth, I'll make sure you're first..."
"I apologize for my partner's foolish remarks," began the first agent, glaring at the second. "But we are here about your son." He gingerly pulled his ID from his suit pocket, closely watched by the angry father. "It's a matter of extreme importance."
Kyle examined the badge and identification card, "So tell me about my son." He handed it back and dropped his gun hand, tucking the 9mm into his waistband in the small of his back.
"We were hoping you could tell us," said the agent who had grabbed Lisa.
The doorbell chimed and Kyle pointed to the closest agent, "Answer that." The agent opened the door and disappeared like he'd been sucked out. When the second turned to investigate the door swung wide and he was dragged out by his tie. Along with the first, he was escorted down the driveway by well armed Marines in camouflage fatigues.
A well muscled man stepped forward, grabbing the final FBI man by his sleeve, "You, out!" He told him, tossing him towards the door. He handed Kyle his ID and tipped his cap to Lynnette and Nina who stood by, their mouths agape. "Special Agent Doug Wilson, Mr. Steele. Central Intelligence Agency. Sorry these clowns had to bother you. It won't happen again." Lisa was escorted up the drive from the street by another agent in fatigues, she entered the house and smiled politely, if not a bit stunned.
"What the hell is going on here?!" Demanded Kyle.
"Maybe we'd better all sit down sir." They gathered in the living room and made themselves comfortable. "First, what I am about to tell you is a matter of national security. I am limited in the details I am allowed to tell you and must ask that what I do divulge does not leave this room." They all agreed.
"Is he working for you?" asked Lisa, rather bluntly.
"In a manner of speaking," began Wilson. "He was delivering a plane for us..."
"Did he know who he was working for?" inquired Kyle.
"That, I don't know," answered the agent.
Lynnette didn't like where this was going, it sounded too past tense. "So where is he now? Why was the FBI here looking for him?"
Agent Wilson decided to answer the question he knew the answer to first. "Well, during the delivery, a situation arose where someone attempted to take the plane away from him by force..."
"Was he hurt?" Interrupted Lisa.
"Not to our knowledge ma’am, there was no indication of that. Anyway, he was forced to defend himself and the plane..."
"And he killed someone in the process..." added Kyle.
Wilson nodded. "Several men."
"That's why the FBI was here!" Lynnette shouted.
"Right." Wilson wanted to tell it and get it over with. "Anyway, he and the plane disappeared somewhere near the northeastern coast of South America in a weather front off the edge of the Bermuda Triangle." He left out many of the sensitive details, especially the missing F18s, the guns, the dead police, the drugs and the Russians. "The search lasted for almost two weeks, but nothing has been found. Our best information says he had plenty of fuel and likely made landfall." He went on to explain that he had told them all he could and would appreciate their help if Jack should happen to contact them. He assured them, the CIA was only interested in Jack's best interests and could clear up any problems to get him home safely.
"Bullshit," said Kyle, once Wilson had left. "They don't want him back to protect him. They want him back to tie up a loose end." He may not have known all the details, but he knew they wouldn't bother telling the whole truth either. He knew how they operated, anything in the name of national security, whatever it takes, whoever it hurts.
"I hope he's Ok," mumbled Lisa, tears welling up in her eyes.
"He's fine," stated Lynnette with confidence. "You'll see." She prayed she was right.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PRINCESS HEDONIST:
DEPARTING, LAN SYSTEM
Carefully smoothing his tunic, Jack stepped out into the corridor with Maria on his arm and was greeted by the rest of the pilots. The group had a big evening planned, dining at the Captain's table in the famous Nova Restaurant then a show and dancing at the Starlight Show Lounge.
After a quiet day of rest, it was time for a night of fun and frolic. The six pilots, accompanied by the amiable Shepherd who had adopted them all, strolled down the hall in their best dress uniforms. Their uniforms were all the same color now. The double-breasted tunics were a deep royal blue and their pants a charcoal gray with black piping on the leg seam. The pants fit close but comfortable and tucked into shiny, black, knee-high boots. Each pilot had proudly pinned their gold `Wings of Honor' on the left breast of his or her tunic while the right breast had two buttons open with the flap folded down to reveal the silky royal blue lining.
Their spirits high, the group sauntered down the corridor greeting everyone they passed. Even Fritz wore the uniform colors in the form of a two toned blue bandana tied around his neck.
The pilots were boisterous and playful as they made their way to the restaurant. "I say, gents," said Jack in his best British imitation, "don't we look absolutely dashing?"
"Aye," responded Brian in kind, "none better."
"Absolutely smashing!" remarked Derrik. "And I would venture to say," he added with aristocratic flair and a wave of his hand, "no one on this great tin-can enjoys finer companionship than that of our comfy little squadron."
"Well put," said Paul.
The pilots strolled slowly along the shop-lined Promenade that rings the Ecosphere on the fifth level and browsed the windows on their way to the restaurant. The shops were filled with strange and unusual gifts and curios from all over the universe. The busy Promenade gave Jack the impression of an old street bazaar teaming with life. Vendors stood in their doorways dressed in colorful clothing and hawked their merchandise to passers-by. Prospective customers haggled prices with shop owners, and the merchandise was so foreign and interesting it almost compelled one to closer examination.
"Living crystals... living crystals," called the woman from the doorway of her shop. She held one aloft, dangling from a golden chain to sway and sparkle before Maria's dancing eyes. "Not only the most beautiful M'Lady, but also the most unusual... " The woman watched the slivers of reflected light play across Maria's face who stared in curiosity and wonder. "Very rare," stated the woman after a pause.
Maria impulsively reached out to touch the crystal but it was withdrawn. Fritz sniffed an investigatory nose at an intricate tapestry hanging on a rack nearby, and the woman eyed him stoically. Jack pretended not to notice. "Let her see it," he said quietly.
The woman had noticed the wings on their tunics and cast her eyes to the floor, "Yes M'Lord." Jack raised one eyebrow in surprise, kind of drastic, he thought. But he wasn't sure how to respond to it either – so he decided it was best to just let it go.
Jack watched as the woman lowered the glittering, fiery crystal into Maria's upturned palm. Fritz sat and watched with mild disinterest and the other pilots studied paintings from a far away world. To Maria and Jack's amazement the solid crystal began to soften and its polished facets seemed to dissolve. "It's warm!" squealed Maria in amazement. "And look!" Before their eyes, the crystal turned into a what appeared to be a limpid pool in the palm of her hand.
"It is very fond of you M'Lady, it does not do that for many..."
Maria's eyes turned to Jack "It's so different, may I have it?" She touched the pool in her palm with the index finger of her other hand and was surprised to see it was more solid than it looked. Jack glanced at the woman in the doorway who was looking thoughtfully at Fritz.
"I will trade the crystal for the furry one." She pointed at Fritz.
"Not likely!" blurted Jack in amusement.
"But this is a Teardrop crystal of Rhomm, very rare!"
Jack shrugged and motioned toward the dog, "He wouldn't like it."
The woman snatched the crystal from Maria's hand, "No furry thing, no Teardrop!"
Maria's face hardened, her dark eyes turned stormy and piercing, causing the vendor woman to step back in fear. Maria turned on her heel, fists clenched and strode purposefully away. "Didn't want it anyway. Right Fritz?" Fritz stood and shook his head to rearrange his hair, snortled at the woman and her goods and trotted after the angry female pilot.
Jack caught up with Maria a few shops down where they met up with the other pilots. She no longer showed any signs of anger and Jack decided it wise not to pursue the matter further. "Dinner?" It was more a suggestion than a question and was met with a favorable round of approval.
The pilots headed to the restaurant through the Promenade and detached from the bustle of the crowd, chatted amongst themselves. Mike and Brian, oblivious of the dwindling throng around them, walked ahead of the others and discussed flight tactics with their natural good nature, accompanied by the normal animated hand gestures which accompanied such talks. Jack watched with amusement as he exchanged small talk with Derrik and Paul. Maria walked in passive silence, the Shepherd keeping pace at her side, pleased to feel the soft touch of her hand on his head.
"Captain Steele!" The cloaked and hooded figure stood inside a darkened entryway, his face obscured by the shadows. Fritz sensed the dark stranger before he saw him and his skin crawled with a queer sensation which was a sure sign of danger. He walked beside Maria, scanning his surroundings and the beings about him in an uneasy attempt to detect the origin of this assault to his acute senses. It greatly upset the Shepherd when the shadowed figure revealed himself before Fritz could locate his whereabouts. It was but a split second before the protective Shepherd imposed his capable bulk between the hooded owner of the deep voice and his beloved friend, Jack.
Jack turned to meet the shadowed owner of the deep voice despite his use of an improper title and was suddenly aware of the protective dog standing between them. For some inexplicable reason, Jack felt his blood turn cold. He was greatly reassured at the dog's presence but he would have felt less vulnerable had he been wearing his .45 Kimber. "Commander Steele," he corrected, "and you?"
"I've been known by many names, but you may call me Voorlak." He stood motionless in the shadows of the recessed entryway.
"I see... and how do you know my name?" With some relief, Jack realized he was now flanked by the other pilots and Fritz still stood in front of him, showing his teeth in a sardonic smile.
"You... all of you, are officers of extremely high-profile. Many know you."
Jack was growing impatient but Paul spoke first, "Yes... well, what can we do for you?"
"I assure you no offense intended to any of you, but my business is with Captain Steele..."
"Commander."
"Yes, of course. Commander. This is a very important matter and I must speak with you... alone."
"What about?"
"Not out here, inside please... and I must insist... alone."
Jack trusted the Shepherd's instincts and his blood ran cold again, neither trusted this being. "The dog stays with me." Jack said curtly. A nod showed the man in agreement. "Look," said Steele turning to the others, "you guys go along, I'll meet you at the restaurant." He read the concern in their faces. "I'll be Ok."
"If anything happens," whispered Brian, "he won't see his next birthday."
Jack nodded, "See you all later."
The only light in the room came from the vidscreen on the wall which showed the outside view of passing stars and a nightlight above the suite's wet bar which produced a faint glow.
It took several minutes for Jack's eyes to adjust to the darkness, and he was glad for the presence of the German Shepherd, who would defend him to the de
ath if need be. Jack Steele was not a man easily unnerved, but it was obvious even to this stranger that he was on edge. "Relax, Mr. Steele, no harm will come to you or your friend here." Fritz grumbled softly and Jack thought he saw the man smile but in this light that would be impossible. Still...
"Your friend..." he waved a robed arm towards Fritz, "does not like me."
"No I guess not." Jack was anxious to leave and shifted uneasily. As his eyes grew more accustomed to the dim light, he could see the room was much like his own suite.
"Please, sit down Captain..." before Jack could correct him, the man silenced him with an elegant wave of his hand. "Yes I know... Commander." He turned away and eased off his hood. "A drink perhaps?" The old man moved to the bar and poured himself a drink. "An excellent vintage of Ditarian Brandy."
"No thanks."
"Come now, Mr. Steele, surely you don't think I went through all this trouble just to poison you, do you?" The question was not meant to be answered. "Of course not!" he snapped. He handed Jack a crystal snifter half full. "You are parched and tense. Sit, drink and relax. I have much to tell you."
Jack sat and sniffed the liquor pensively. Deciding he wouldn't know poison anyway and throwing caution to the winds, he sipped. It was sweet and heavy, warming him as he swallowed. Jack could see his face now, lined and aged, he studied the face for some time, both men remaining silent. The man, Voorlak, looked very old. "Who, or should I say, what are you?"
"I am by most labels, an Ancient... and yes, I am very old. I lost track after two thousand..." he smiled again. "Most stop counting after a thousand but I kept fair records..." he waved a hand expressively, "but then came the 200 Year Pennance Wars and somewhere during that time, I lost count." Voorlak, lapsing into silence, stared into his brandy, perhaps reflecting upon old memories.
Jack was more relaxed and noticed Fritz reclining sedately, though still alert. "Why do you call me Captain when you know I'm only a Commander?" Straining to see more clearly in the dim light, he watched Voorlak's face.
Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1) Page 17
